


Portrait of a King

by shadowsfan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Class Differences, Inspired by Art, Lots of talk about nudes, M/M, UST, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 15:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsfan/pseuds/shadowsfan
Summary: Davos Seaworth, an artist of some distinction, has been commissioned to paint the royal portrait of the newly crowned King Stannis.  The King has very traditional taste in art, but Davos has been dabbling in the new trend in portraits ─ painting nudes in the classical style.  While trying to convince Stannis to appreciate the human form, the artist becomes obsessed with both portrait and subject.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a recent trip to Italy and a sculpture in Florence called Oceanus (see below). I have also been watching and reading Wolf Hall, so there was that influence as well. I tried to modify the language a bit, but not make to too Elizabethan to become annoying.

 

Davos studied the room, carefully assessing the light before placing his easel in the corner closest to the large mahogany desk.  His subject was known to be a meticulous man, who valued books ─ more than his subjects some said, though not within the King’s hearing.  Davos would not be swayed by idle talk. He would forge his own opinions regarding his new king soon enough. He carefully positioned his canvas, arranging his paints and brushes within easy reach.  He might not get as far as actually painting today, but he wanted to be ready. He’d been given the opportunity of a lifetime, and he couldn’t afford to muck it up.

 

The scrape of boots and murmur of voices from the corridor brought Davos to attention.  He was surprised when the King entered alone. He’d never been in the presence of a king without an entourage of important men, or a guard at the very least.  King Stannis stopped in front of him, fixing him with an appraising stare. Davos bowed deeply, but when he raised his head, he was immediately struck by the color of the King’s eyes ─ a complex shade of blue that was quite unique.  He’d need to use a touch of the newly acquired pigment, ultramarine, and blend it with the traditional Egyptian blue, in order to do them justice.

 

“Ser Davos Seaworth, I’m told you’ve been commissioned to paint my portrait,” the King snapped impatiently, as if Davos had been the one to keep him waiting and not the other way around.  “I expect an accurate likeness, and not some heavily embellished monstrosity like the royals of Sunspear are so fond of displaying.”

 

“No, Your Grace.  Of course not. I strive to keep true to form.”

 

The King nodded yet continued to gaze at him with suspicion.

 

“What are your qualifications?  Seaworth does not seem a proper name for an artist.”

 

“True, Your Grace ─ not originally, but I do come from a line of artists.  My grandfather was a sculptor and his father before him a wood carver. The first Davos Seaworth, for whom I was named, was a sailor.  He made small wood carvings in his later years, and I suppose that inspired his son to pursue the arts. As for myself, I painted your brother’s portrait, King Robert.  It hangs in the great hall above his sword and shield.”   
  


“I know where it hangs,” the King growled, his expression slowly changing from irritation to curiosity.  He raised an eyebrow. “You met my brother then. What did you make of him?”

 

Davos was caught off guard by the question.  During the revolution one had to be careful about expressing opinions about royals.  If the royal took offense, one might find oneself kneeling at the guillotine. Though the war was over, and the last years of King Robert’s reign had been peaceful, old habits die hard.  Davos fell back on the tried and true. 

 

“King Robert was a fine soldier and a strong king.”

 

His words were mild enough, but his face must have betrayed him because the King emitted a dissatisfied snort and glowered at him.

 

“One description is true, the other debatable; both are meant to gain my favor.  Do you know what trait I value in a man above all, Ser Davos?”

 

Davos’ insides were becoming increasingly unsettled at the dangerous turn his line of questioning had taken.  Perhaps short answers were the better option.

 

“No, Your Grace,” he answered, lowering his eyes.

 

“Honesty, Ser Davos.  I expect ─ no, I  _ demand _ , honesty from those who serve me.  Are you an honest man, Ser Davos?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.  No man has ever called me a liar!”  

 

Davos responded passionately, knowing that his word was true, even though he might have been known to play both sides on occasion, in order to save his own skin.  He was beginning to realize that this new king might have a stricter definition of honor than most men.

 

“Half-truths are lies, Ser Davos.  Do not presume to tell me what you believe I wish to hear, speak the truth.  You must have sat with him for days while you painted him. What did you make of Robert?”

 

Davos fought the urge to rub his neck, the imaginary blade he envisioned cutting into his flesh.  He kept his hands crossed respectfully behind his back. There was no saving him now, his honor might mean the end of him.  In his experience, those who asked for the unadorned truth usually reacted badly upon hearing it.

 

“King Robert liked to boast of past accomplishments,” he began after a long pause.  “I believe his intentions were good, but drink made him forgetful and easily swayed by those around him.  He was a strong warrior but a weak king ─ though I’ve seen worse.” 

 

He added the last quickly, forcing himself to breathe through the constriction in his chest as he studied King Stannis’ face for some sign of what he was thinking. After what seemed to Davos an eternity, King Stannis nodded curtly and released Davos from his piercing gaze.  

 

“A fair assessment, and an honest one.  Robert and I were brothers but we weren’t close.  He always chose his friends and the adulation of wealthy patrons above his own blood.  Nevertheless, I did not wish to see him cut down in middle-age.”

 

Davos exhaled an internal sigh of relief and was just beginning to relax his posture when King Stannis pinned him with an even more treacherous question.

 

“And what kind of king am I?  What is your impression of me?”

 

Davos’ pulse quickened for his first thought was that he was captivated by the King’s features.  The songs about Robert had always told of his good looks, but by the time Davos had seen him, he had been portly and sagging, drink aging him beyond his years and leading to his untimely death.  King Stannis by contrast, he found strikingly handsome, his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders carrying the message of strength. His uniquely colored eyes reminded Davos of the sea ─ always beautiful whether stormy or calm.  Davos immediately pushed these thoughts aside knowing twas in no manner appropriate to tell the King he found him attractive, even from an artist’s perspective. There were other observations he had made, however, and this time he would tell King Stannis the truth without reservation.

 

“I haven’t known you long enough to make a sound judgement, Your Grace.  What I have seen during our brief acquaintance leads me to believe that you are a man of discerning tastes, who has little care for the material offerings that come with your royal title.”

 

King Stannis’ eyes widened in surprise and a half-smile graced his lips.  

 

“Another accurate assessment, Ser Davos.  I did not ask to be King, but I have sworn to do my duty.  I mean to make a clean sweep of Robert’s court of turncoats and fools.  Keep speaking plainly and I’ll honor you with a permanent position at court.”

 

Davos knew he should be elated, but he felt no less unsettled by the King’s sudden gaze of approval than he had under his initial scrutiny.  Even now, he felt a surge of warmth touch his cheeks, making him feel like a blushing maiden. He stole a glance at his paints, wishing to hide behind his canvas in order to escape further inspection.  King Stannis must have noticed, for he broke eye contact and motioned toward the desk.

 

“Shall we begin?  I haven’t much time for such distractions today.”

 

Davos nodded gratefully and quickly took up his pen to begin sketching.  

 

“I thought I might paint you in front of your books if it please Your Grace.”

 

“Yes, yes, ’twill do,” King Stannis snapped, his impatience having returned.  

 

Davos suspected it was going to be difficult to get the King to sit still for any length of time, so he set to work as swiftly as possible.  After only a few minutes time, Davos realized it was going to be even more difficult than he’d imagined. Painting King Robert had not been an easy task.  The royal had been especially prone to distractions; he chatted with others in his entourage and requested food and drink often during their sessions. Worse yet, he flirted shamelessly with any fresh young maid who happened into court that day, all of which caused him to break pose.  

 

King Stannis, while not particularly inclined to converse, seemed unable to sit quietly as well.  His curious eyes scanned the room incessantly, causing his head to turn slightly when they landed on something of interest.  It seemed the King’s mind was never at rest. His fingers perpetually touched the hem of his blouse, his body shifting position slightly, as if uncomfortable with the act of being so closely observed.  Perhaps it was this way with all kings, Davos mused, since he’d had such limited experience, or perhaps it was the way of Baratheons. He’d had young men pose for him in his studio and none had been this fidgety.  In any case, Davos needed to find a method of stilling King Stannis, or this portrait might turn out to be a disaster, and that would put an end to Davos’ semi-successful career as a painter. 

 

Though it was a risky move on his part, Davos thought that maybe striking up a conversation with the King might direct his attention in a more constructive way.

 

“If I may inquire, Your Grace?  Is there any particular work of art, or style which pleases you?”

 

King Stannis looked up, his piercing eyes boring into Davos.  He didn’t appear angry, only startled that Davos had broken the silence between them.  The King’s brow furrowed and Davos knew that he was giving the question careful consideration.  

 

“I haven’t the time to consider art, which, for the purpose of art itself is of no practical value to anyone.”

 

Davos cringed, for he felt quite the opposite, though he did not feel confident enough to express his disagreement with the most powerful man in Westeros.  Once again his face must have betrayed his thoughts, despite his intention to hide them, for to his dismay the King prompted him to speak.

 

“I take it you disagree.  As you are an artist, I find no surprise there.  I doubt you can persuade me, but I would have your opinion on the matter.  We will see if you continue to be straightforward with me.”

 

Davos stopped working and met the King’s gaze.  The energy in his eyes caused Davos to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat.  He took a deep breath to steady himself and offered an honest answer.

 

“I believe that art is what is most noble within ourselves as men.  It causes us to aspire to heights we would not ordinarily imagine. There is beauty in art that soothes our souls and there is truth that causes us to take measure of ourselves whether we desire to or we do not.”

 

King Stannis was silent for a long interval but then nodded his head almost imperceptibly.  

 

“Not all works of art, or artists are so honest.”

 

Once again Davos felt his cheeks warm from the intense look the king was giving him.  He shook it off quickly. He could not demur every time he earned the King’s praise or he would never finish his painting.  At least King Stannis had stilled for a moment and Davos took full advantage by focusing on his preliminary sketch in earnest. 

 

~~~ 

 

Davos thought that was the end of it, for surely the King would find it tedious speaking with a humble painter, but something in their brief conversation had resonated with His Majesty, for on the very next day during their session King Stannis revisited the subject of art.

 

“I do not approve of frivolous works of art which serve no purpose other than to stimulate the senses, but I do respect your point about the inspirational value of an artwork.  In my youth, I gathered inspiration from the ancient works adorning the castle at Storm’s End, especially the sculptures of Orys and Lyonel Baratheon.”

 

Davos’ pulse quickened and he instantly felt honored that the King had considered his opinion valid.  He was becoming quite impressed with King Stannis and his openness to honest dialog from a man of such low status.  However, the King might think he was attempting to flatter by saying so, and he let the compliment go without comment.   It did seem appropriate to remark upon the artworks King Stannis mentioned.

 

“Yes, I know them well and they are admirable pieces.  Do you know the statue in the great fountain at Cape Wrath ─ Oceanus, the Sea God?  My grandfather was the sculptor.”

 

Davos had been looking at his canvas but when the King didn’t answer, he glanced at him and was taken aback by the strange expression on his face.  King Stannis’ face had taken on a shade of dark red, and he appeared distinctly uncomfortable, as if he had just tasted a rotten piece of fruit.

 

“I know the sculpture!”  He spat the words with a passion that surprised Davos.  “I do not understand the popularity of nudity in art. ’Tis unnecessary and unseemly!”

 

Davos’ first instinct was to laugh, which he immediately suppressed.  Was King Stannis a prudish man? He had heard rumors, but had taken no notice.  Yet, Davos sensed from the emotional reaction that there was something more deeply rooted than a mere moral objection.

 

“The statue is a representation of the sea itself, as I interpret it.  If I may ask, Your Grace, what garments would you suggest the Sea God wear?”

 

King Stannis seemed offended by the question and was even more indignant than before.  

 

“I know ’tis only a representation ─ of course there is no god-of-the-sea!” he snarled.  “I-I wasn’t suggesting any sort of clothing at all, only that the statue is so-so  _ provocative _ .” he stammered.  “─with his hand covering his─ Your grandfather was obviously trying to draw attention to his body!”

 

Davos paused, eyes lowered in thought.   He hadn’t expected the King to state what he himself felt about the statue.  There was something distinctly erotic about it; the muscular heaviness of the thighs, and the way the large hand swept back and concealed the genitals.  Davos always found viewing the sculpture quite stimulating, although the artist may not have intended it that way. Beauty was definitely in the eye of the beholder.  But, he never expected the King to give voice to Davos’ own secret thoughts. It was Davos’ turn to feel uncomfortable. Was it presumptuous of him to consider that the King’s reaction to the work hinted at an attraction to the male form?

 

“I believe it has to do with the sea being the source of creation ─  procreation and fertility. ’Tis symbolic. Whatever the meaning, I find the statue quite impressive,” Davos answered, trying to steer the awkward conversation in another direction.

 

“ ’Tis impressive, that I cannot deny, but ’tis also─ unnecessarily ─human!”  King Stannis seemed to be at a loss for words. His face looked flushed and he’d begun fidgeting again.  He stood abruptly.

 

“I haven’t time to waste posing today.  We will continue tomorrow,” he proclaimed before rushing from the room, leaving a puzzled Davos to stare at the open door.

 

~~~

 

That night in his studio, Davos found time to contemplate the King’s behavior in greater detail as he worked on an old sketch that he hoped to begin painting soon.  ’Twas of two men wrestling ─ back in the days of the colosseum when such sports were more common than the jousting that men were so fond of at present. The wrestlers were nude, their bodies entwined, their muscles rippling from the strain of combat, and their faces grimacing with effort.  It was exhilarating and erotic at the same time. What the casual viewer didn’t know was that the piece was inspired by one of Davos’ former lovers. Nudes were still somewhat scandalous in Westerosi society, and artists who dabbled in them could be shunned or worse. The exception that allowed one to get away with painting or sculpting a nude, was if it were set in the classical style or depicted the gods.  For those works, nudity was not only tolerated, but celebrated.  _ As it should be,  _ Davos mused. 

 

It was a pity that the king had such strong objections to both nudes and fanciful portraits.  Davos relished the idea of painting King Stannis as one of the gods ─ a theme often expressed in the portraits of Dornish monarchs.  Some of Dorne’s most famous works were of nude royals painted in the classical style, Oberyn the Magnificent, being one famous example.  With King Stannis’ dark features, classic jawline and vivid blue eyes, such a portrait of him would be quite striking. 

 

Without thinking, Davos made a few quick strokes with his pen, and the wrestler on top began to resemble the King.  Davos took a step back, addressing his work with an appraising eye. His gaze followed the lines forming the wrestler’s taught thighs and over his flexing buttocks.  He imagined King Stannis’ own body and how his broad shoulders nicely complemented his long, lean torso. If only he would consent to pose in a natural state. Davos felt a flutter in the depths of his belly and a quickening in his loins.  The unmistakable sensation of arousal shook him from his contemplation and he dropped his pen, dripping ink across the floor. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He could not allow his attraction to the King to grow into something that would, in all likelihood, lead to his dismissal or even imprisonment.  It was illegal to portray the King in a negative light, and King Stannis definitely did not approve of nudes, even if, as Davos suspected, he was aroused by them. Davos moved the drawing to the back of a stack of other sketches waiting to be edited at a later date. He must put this nonsense out of mind and get some rest. King Stannis had requested he arrive early on the morrow and it was his duty to obey.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Over the course of the next few weeks Davos found that his progress on the royal portrait had exceeded his expectations.  Perhaps King Stannis was becoming used to his presence and his methods. Where once they had sat in awkward silence only interrupted when Davos was bold enough to speak, now conversation flowed freely between them, often initiated by the King.  King Stannis seemed fascinated by Davos’ life as an artist, unencumbered by the obligations that kept the monarch from doing as he pleased. He prodded Davos to describe his life in great detail, living vicariously through his tales of scraping by on the meager sums he earned from patrons.   Davos, having come to know the King’s heart, and admire him for his honest and inquisitive nature, was eager to ease the everyday burdens of the King in any way he could. He found time spent with King Stannis enjoyable for the most part, although occasionally, in an unguarded moment their eyes would meet unexpectedly, and hold for a moment longer than polite conversation required.  On these occasions, Davos’ face warmed and he forced himself to look away quickly lest he commit the unpardonable sin of thinking that the King had more interest in him than was appropriate for one of his lower class.

 

What Davos enjoyed most about their talks, was that he seemed to have stimulated the King’s interest in art as more than just the documentation of historical events and figures.  One day while Davos was working on a particularly difficult portion of the canvas, King Stannis brought up the subject once again.

 

“I am truly interested to study more paintings depicting the common man and scenes of his life, Ser Davos.  I am surrounded by royal portraits and great battle scenes so that I have become weary of viewing even more of the same theme.  You have swayed me with your arguments in favor of the former. ’Tis a pity so few works of this nature exist. They ought to be displayed for all to see.”

 

“If it pleases Your Grace,” Davos responded before he could process the potential pitfalls of what he was saying, “I have many such works in my studio.”

 

He looked up to study the King’s face and was instantly alarmed by the intensity of his expression.  Davos hastily clarified his offer.

 

“With your permission I could bring a few with me─”

 

Before he could finish the King interrupted, his voice betraying his excitement for the alternative.

 

“No, no, that won’t do, Ser Davos.  I would see them in your studio, where they can be displayed properly!  ’Tis settled. I shall visit your studio on the morrow!”

 

Davos’ panic must have been obvious as he frantically calculated how long it would take him to make his rooms suitable for a royal visit, for the King quickly added,

 

“Better yet, let it be this very eve!  I’ll not have you tidying up. I want to see you in your natural habitat.  I’ll not suffer any argument on the matter.”

 

In the span of a few anxious hours, Davos found himself in the King’s carriage, traversing the winding cobblestone streets of Kings Landing, from the luxurious palaces of the Red Keep toward the humble brick tenements lining the docks.  The King was unable to rid himself of his omnipresent guard, but when the horses pulled up outside Davos’ studio, King Stannis ordered his men to wait outside.

 

“Would you care for some refreshment, Your Majesty?” Davos asked as soon as the entered the cluttered studio, eager to be a good host and divert attention from some of the mess created by years of accumulated paint and ink.

 

KIng Stannis simply shook his head, much more interested in his surroundings than in any hospitality Davos had to offer.  As he stalked the cramped rooms, his fingers traced the edge of a stack of canvases and his eyes landed on the untidy bundle of blankets on the floor.  One eyebrow raised inquisitively.

 

“You sleep here?”

 

“Only sometimes.  Marya doesn’t like me coming home late and waking the boys.”

 

The King nodded and immediately turned his attention to several pieces depicting a blacksmith’s boy fetching water while his master crafted a sword.  

 

“These are magnificent,” the King said softly after a lengthy period of study.  “I’ve never seen anything like them, except as background in a larger painting.”

 

Davos’ heart swelled with pride.  Praise from the King meant so much.

 

“I’m beginning to understand what you mean by the importance of painting the common folk,” King Stannis continued as he moved to another group of paintings displayed against a wall, these of an old washer woman doing laundry.  “These are every bit as majestic as the portraits of the lords and ladies hanging in the Royal Gallery. There is absolute truth to be seen in these, Ser Davos, an honest truth.”

 

“I am honored, Your Grace.  No not─”

 

But Davos was too late.  The King was browsing through the stack of sketches that Davos had been working on a fortnight ago.

 

The King’s breath caught as he lifted a portrait from the middle.  It was of a naked young man bathing in a river, the water beading on his shapely buttocks and dripping down his muscular legs.  The subject’s gaze was focused on the viewer, as if in subtle invitation. It was unabashedly erotic. Davos stopped breathing as he studied the King’s reaction.

 

“This work is indecent, Ser!” he choked, his eyes fastened on the drawing as a mask of red appeared on his face.  “How many of these have you done?”

 

“’Tis merely a young Targaryen prince, Your Grace ─  a representation of Old Valyria, in the days before the Doom. ’Twas a portrait commissioned by a lord from Dragonstone, much older than the youth of course.  Truth be told, the classic paintings are very popular, Sire. Men like to see themselves in a flattering light.”

 

“Disgraceful,” King Stannis huffed, but his voice was strangely thick and Davos noticed he had not once taken his eyes from the sketch.

 

“Forgive me, my King, but I do not believe there is anything improper in displaying the human form, in all its beauty and with all its flaws.”

 

King Stannis turned to meet his gaze and a knot hardened in Davos’ stomach.

 

“Modesty is a virtue, Ser Davos.  Clothing is our armor which protects it.   _Nude_ paintings are much too provocative to be shown in public.”  

 

He uttered it in a hoarse whisper as if embarrassed at saying the very word.

 

Davos lowered his eyes and nodded, unable to hold the King’s gaze.  He didn’t seem angry though, merely passionate about the subject, which left Davos feeling both anxious and curious.  Curiosity took the upper hand. The King’s voice had grown soft and the conversation had taken an intimate turn that sent Davos’ thoughts racing.

 

“But, Your Grace, society allows us to paint nude portraits of the gods.  Surely they do not wear clothing. Surely they are resplendent in human form.”

 

“A fool’s distinction.  I care little for what society thinks.”

 

“Nor do I,” Davos continued, aware of the thin ice on which he tread.  “And yet, you are swayed by the opinions of others about nudity. Is it not my duty as an artist to display the flawed beauty of a common man beside the perfection of a god? ─Your Grace,” he added hastily, momentarily forgetting his place.

 

The King studied his face at length, with a scowl so menacing that Davos’ stomach constricted as tightly as if a snake were coiled in his belly.  But rather than scold him anew, King Stannis’ next question took Davos aback.

 

“These men come here -─ to your rooms ─  and they undress for you?”

 

The words hung heavy in the air between them as Davos searched the King’s eyes for some sign of his thoughts.  What had motivated such a question ─ revulsion, simple curiosity or something more? The serpent in Davos’ gut suddenly slithered with excitement, leaving him unable to trust his own voice.  He merely nodded his assent, mesmerized by the King’s darkened eyes. They stood like that for some time before the King broke the spell and returned to the stack of canvases.

 

Davos was trying to think of a way to return to the conversation, he was desperate to know more of the King’s thoughts.  He was thinking of a way to broach the subject of nude models when he was startled by a sharp bark from King Stannis. His blood ran cold the instant he saw what the King was holding.

 

“What is the meaning of this?!” King Stannis’ posture stiffened as he held the sketch that Davos had feared he would find, the one he should have destroyed but could not bring himself to do so for reasons he did not want to contemplate.

 

“This is not merely shameful, ’tis treasonous!  I never imagined that you, of all people, would mock me!  Explain yourself at once!”

 

The King’s complexion had darkened to a crimson hue that Davos, under other circumstances, would have liked to replicate in oils, but in this moment it caused his heart to still and his knees to weaken.

 

Davos gaped in mute horror at the wrestler with the face of the King, strong, sensuous and naked as a newborn babe.

 

“No, Your Grace!  Never! Never, would I mock you!  ’Twas not my intent!” He stammered, grasping for words that would calm the King.

 

“Then what _was_ your intent pray tell?  I will have the truth at once or I will call for my guard!”  

 

Davos was in a panic, for to tell the King the truth would certainly mean a trip to the dungeon, but he’d sworn an oath to tell the truth and so he must.

 

“’Twas meant to honor Your Majesty.  I had nearly finished the sketch of the wrestlers, a most vivid illustration of strength and grace.  I wished to capture the moment the victor attained the advantage over his opponent. I believed your features to best embody the emotion of the contest.”

 

That part was true, all of it.  He couldn’t tell the rest though, voice aloud to King Stannis’ face ─ that his inspiration was fueled in part by erotic fantasies of the King.  It was all part of his creative process as an artist; there was no separating his beliefs from his vision from his desire, it was all a tangle. He remembered the King’s words about half truths, but prayed his explanation would suffice.

 

“I-I know I was wrong, pray forgive me, my King.  I am but a flawed man. I lose my senses at times when I am creating.”  

 

Davos left it at that, afraid to face the King’s wrath, but even more afraid to look away.  He had left out part of the truth, the part he did not understand, but somewhere deep inside he wondered if he actually wished his secret to be revealed.  What would happen if King Stannis knew that Davos found him beautiful ─ wanted to paint him in his natural state, without all the gaudy trappings of royalty that disguised his true self?  Was there even a chance he would agree?

 

The King explored Davos’ face for a hint of deceit and when he found none, Davos began to discern a faint glimmer of understanding behind his dark eyes.  His apoplectic expression gradually softened, but his posture was no less defensive and he tossed the offensive sketch aside.

 

“You will destroy this at once and we will not speak of it again,” he barked, turning abruptly on his heel.  “Do not visit the castle on the morrow. I have other duties to attend to in the coming days and shall have no patience for portrait sitting.”

 

Davos’ heart sank.  It seemed that King Stannis was finished with him.  He had deduced what Davos wanted from him and he had rejected him because he found it repulsive.  This judgement was nearly as hurtful to Davos as physical punishment. How long should King Stannis keep him away?  He’d been on the threshold of the dungeon, but the prospect of never seeing the King again left him more distressed than facing his anger.  It wasn’t his place to argue, so he suffered the King’s dismissal with impotent politeness.

 

“As you wish, Your Majesty.  I am here to serve whenever you call for me.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

The days passed slowly during the weeks that followed.  Davos heard that King Stannis had gone to Storm’s End to inspect the fleet and fortifications there, as piracy had been on the increase in the region.  Davos tried to keep busy with several commissioned works but his thoughts were never far from the King and what had happened between them that night. He tried to remain optimistic, toying with the notion that perhaps King Stannis had come to realize that Davos found a touch of freedom in painting nude portraits of men and gods, a release that was not permitted through any other acceptable means.  If only the King was even now starting to see how one might explore one’s desires through art. Maybe the King had similar desires. _Methinks thou dost protest too much_.  The line from a recent play he’d seen came to mind.  

 

Davos knew he was wrong to entertain such thoughts about the King, but he could not banish them from his mind any more than he could destroy the nude sketch of King Stannis that he concealed behind a loose panel in the wall, only to take it out again each night and gaze at it longingly before falling into a fitful sleep.  Worse were the nights when he longed to touch himself, cursing his treasonous body while imagining King Stannis lying next to him in some fantastical realm where they could live as equals and never be ashamed. Thankfully, by sheer force of will he was able to control such destructive thoughts though they resulted in many a sleepless night.

 

One warm foggy eve when the urge to shun his work and indulge his fantasies became too strong, Davos fled to the local tavern to temper his emotions with a pint of ale.  

 

“I hear’d tell King Stannis returned to tha Keep,” slurred a merchant drinking heavily at the bar.

 

“Aye,” the burly barkeep nodded.  “’Twas yesterday. I purchased a barrel o’ Cape Wrath rum from a royal guard.”

 

Davos’ heart, sent racing at the mention of the King, sank like a stone.  The King had been back a full day and hadn’t sent for him. It seemed he would never be forgiven for his mistake.

 

“You’d better warn Rosie to close her shutters. They’ll be rounding up whores again now that Ol’ Prudence is back,” snorted another loudly to a roar of laughter.

 

“’Tis true enough,” chuckled the innkeeper’s wife, who was busy serving bowls of hot stew to some of the tables.  “A lady can’t earn a livin’ these days. His Majesty would have every girl in Westeros wear a chastity belt!”

 

“Lady?  I wern’t speakin’ o’ ladies, only whores,” the man replied to another bout of laughter.

 

“Do you not think the King is trying to reduce crime and protect poor women?” Davos piped up in defense of King Stannis.

 

“Harrassin’ workin’ women don’t protect any of us,” she scoffed.  “Men’ll take their pleasure somewhere. ’Tis the whore who ends up in the gaol or starvin’ ’cause she isn’t allowed to earn a livin’.  Widows and orphans can’t get proper jobs same as men.”

 

“’Tisn’t like a woman can work on the docks.  Ain’t a woman born that can lift a barrel o’ rum.  ’Tis man’s work!” Protested a man sitting nearby.

 

“Oh really?” The innkeeper’s wife shot the man a dangerous look and began to roll up a sleeve revealing a beefy forearm.   “I’ll arm wrestle ye and we’ll see who’s the stronger!’

 

The tavern crowd roared in approval.

 

“Have ye not been to the Keep to petition the King?”  

 

A gravelly voice from the corner turned heads. Davos stomach lurched suddenly, for he knew that voice as well as his own.   _It cannot be._  Davos was convinced his imagination had got the best of him for there was no other explanation.

 

The man who had spoken, sat half obscured by shadows in the darkest corner of the tavern.  He was dressed in tattered clothing, his shaggy beard covered his face, and his workman’s cap worn low over his brow disguised his features even more.  Davos knew it could not be King Stannis, even as his eyes strained to study the man. He couldn’t be sure since he was unable to see his face clearly.

 

“Perhaps he is not aware of yer concerns,” the man added in a softer tone, as a hush had momentarily fallen over the room.

 

“Petition the King?!” The innkeeper’s wife was the first to respond with a snort of incredulity.  “Some tried it with King Robert and nothin’ ever come of it! Folks said he let the Queen deal with “women’s matters” and everyone knows THAT woman never had a bit o’ care for the common folk.  Queen Selyse is even worse ─ lockin’ herself in the tower to pray day and night. We don’t need prayers we need coin. ’Tisn’t our souls that are hungry, but our bellies!”

 

There was a loud murmur of approval from everyone and Davos watched to see if the stranger would speak again, but if he intended to further the discussion, he was given no leave as the patrons were more eager to watch the arm wrestling match than complain about their daily struggles, which most of them had come to the tavern to forget.

 

“Well go on woman, let’s have at it!” Shouted a voice from the crowd.  

 

“I’ll wager a silver stag that she takes him in ten!” Answered another.

 

Chairs were shuffled and the table made ready, Davos watched the ragged workman slip from the back of the room and out the door.  He rushed to follow, leaving a coin on the table for his pint, but by the time he could work his way across the crowded room and out into the street, the man was nowhere to be seen.  Davos wandered the side streets and back alleys in the area for the better part of an hour, but aside from a few beggars and potential thieves, he observed no one out of the ordinary.  

 

Davos decided to return to his studio and work rather than go home, his obsession with the sketch of the King winning out over his obligations to his family.  He was fumbling with the key to his door in the dim light cast by the half moon, when a hand at his back shoved him inside. Stumbling over the threshold, he braced himself for a fight, and started to shout for help before a familiar voice in the darkness made him freeze where he stood.

 

“Do not struggle man, ’tis I ─ Stannis, your King!”

 

Davos’ limbs went limp, and his blood throbbed in his head.  He had wished for King Stannis to send for him, but now that he was here in his rooms, he was fearful of his presence.  What could he want with him here and why would he disguise himself so?

 

“Majesty,”  Davos could do nothing but fall to his knees.  “Forgive me, I did not recognize you.”

 

“On your feet,” the King commanded.  “Light the candles and draw the shutters.  I do not wish to be seen.”

 

Davos did as he was told and soon was able to study the King’s face by the warm glow of the candles.  Despite the full beard, Davos could plainly see that it was King Stannis who stood before him dressed as a commoner.

 

“Begging Your Majesty’s pardon, ’tisn’t safe for you to walk the streets at night without a guard.  What brings you here in this manner, if I may ask?”

 

“I was in search of the truth, Ser Davos!”  

 

The King began to pace, his eyes shining brightly with emotion in the flickering light.

 

“For over a fortnight I’ve been surrounded by sycophants.  Fawning lords who would do or say anything to win my favor.  To be a good King, I need to know what the common folk need, not what greedy noblemen tell me that they need.”

 

He stopped abruptly in front of Davos and met his steady gaze.  

 

“I sorely miss yer counsel, Ser Davos.  You tell me the truth, even when I do not wish to hear it.”

 

Davos was at a loss.  His heart swelled in his chest and tears blurred his vision.  He quickly blinked them away and lowered his eyes, not wishing the King to see him overcome.

 

“Sire, I am honored.  I too missed─” _Could he say it, or would it be too bold?_  “─our time together, in counsel.”

 

Was it his imagination or was the King breathing harder?  He dare not lift his eyes to look. The silence between them grew heavy and Davos stared at his boots waiting for the King to speak.

 

“I went to see the statue at Cape Wrath,” the King stated abruptly.  “Oceanus -─the Sea God of which we spoke. The men around me were in awe of its magnificence.  They spoke of its strength and power. They described it as a fine tribute to the gods, an inspiration for kings and soldiers alike.”

 

He hesitated, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper.  “I saw all those things too, but there was something else.  Something no one else spoke of. I saw its beauty ─ the graceful sweep of the arm, and the well formed muscles of its breast…” his voice trailed off hoarsely and Davos couldn’t help but lift his eyes to study his face.  He had to know what the King was thinking.

 

His expression was a tangle of tumultuous thought, his eyes searching Davos’ face perhaps for some sign that he found his confession amusing.  Finding no hint of admonishment he continued, not with his story but with a question.

 

“Why did you sketch me in such a scandalous pose?”

Davos chose his words carefully.  

 

“For the same reasons you just gave.  When I look at Your Grace, I too see the strength and purpose of a skilled warrior, but I also see beauty.”  Davos paused, anxious but thrilled by finally speaking the full truth. “I merely wished for others to see you through my eyes. Forgive me; I speak too boldly.”

 

“No, you are being honest.  More honest than you should, for your own sake.”

 

There was no anger in the King’s voice, only a kind of wonder, as if he could not understand that Davos really found him beautiful.

 

“Your talent is unique Ser Davos.  I see now that you meant no offense.”

 

Davos felt as if an anvil had been lifted from his chest.  He was forgiven! But greed overwhelmed him. He wanted more from the King.  He would know his thoughts, all of them. He would seek what had been forbidden.

 

“May I have Your Majesty’s permission to continue with the sketch?”

 

“You still have it?”

 

Davos nodded.  “I have not shown it to anyone, but I could not destroy it.  I will do so now if you wish, though it would pain me greatly.”

 

The King raised an eyebrow, a hint of disapproval in his expression.  He wasn’t used to being disobeyed. Davos braced himself for the worst, but when the King spoke his voice was calm.

 

“I am curious to see what you would paint from such a sketch.  You have my permission to finish the work ─ but show it to no one but myself, do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.  Thank you!”

 

Davos wasn’t sure what made him so reckless, but he had to try for he had been obsessed for some time and would not let his desire go so easily.  

 

“Would you sit for me, Your Majesty?”

 

“Yes, you may come to the palace again.  I’ll send for you on the morrow.”

 

“No, Your Majesty, I mean yes, I will come to the palace, but I meant ─ would you sit for me here -─ for the natural portrait?  No one need ever know.”

 

“Natural?”  The King looked momentarily confused and then his features turned stormy.  “You mean _nude_?! “  His face turned the shade of crimson Davos had begun to admire despite its dangerous portent.   “You forget yourself, Ser! Your request is─is─ criminal in the eyes of the church,” the King stammered.

 

“That may be true, and may not.  It is my understanding that it depends upon the intent.  You are not a religious man, nor am I in the traditional sense.  Forgive me, I would not ask but it is _necessary_ for the sake of the work, and for my inspiration.”

 

Much to his surprise, King Stannis seemed to calm, and carefully reflect on his proposal.

 

“You are correct, I am not religious in the least.  I do not always agree with what the church considers to be lawful, and ’tis often interpreted according to the whim of the current leadership.”  He remained thoughtful, as if he wanted to discover a legitimate reason that Davos’ request was not unlawful or immoral. “But, I am married. I would not dishonor my wife in such a manner.”

 

Davos felt as if he had been struck.  He had believed that King Stannis had been close to granting his request.  His hopes had risen like a ship on the crest of a wave only to be dashed against the rocks.  That should have been the end of it, but Davos felt like a condemned man pleading for his life.  He didn’t know what had come over him, only he did not wish the King to go. They might never be completely alone like this again.  To have him so close, and yet unable to bring clarity to the emotions that passed between them, was torture.

 

“Where are your clothes ─ your proper clothes?” Davos asked.

 

“In a bag, here.”

 

The King motioned to the sack he had deposited on the floor.

 

“You have need to change into them before you return to the palace?”

 

“Of course.  I do not wish to be attacked by the guards who would not recognize their King in disguise.”

 

“Then, would it not be appropriate for me to assist ─ with your dressing?  I would make do ─ sketching if you would allow.”

 

There was the path of escape.  Davos watched as the King’s eyes filled with understanding, and a touch of anxiety.  He was curious but apprehensive. It would come down to a matter of trust between them.  The King could accept his request and the true purpose of the exercise would be hidden.

 

“Just this once ─ here and now.  We will not speak of this again,” he snapped, averting his eyes.  Davos understood this would only work if they didn’t meet each other’s gaze.

 

Davos grabbed his sketch pad as King Stannis began to unlace his tattered sheepskin jerkin, the stiffness of his posture betraying his discomfort with the idea of Davos observing him.  Davos made no attempt to assist as he removed the outer layers of his clothing and placed them on a nearby chair. When the King reached for the hem of his linen blouse and began to lift it, Davos presumed he should at least attempt to conform to the pretence of his role as valet, but as he stepped closer, the King pulled the garment over his head in one swift motion, exposing his bare torso for Davos to view.  

 

The King was broad-shouldered and his muscles well defined from years of practicing sword fighting with his brother and the maesters.  He was leaner than Davos had first expected, until he remembered the siege at Storm’s End, Stannis’ famous stand during the war when he was quite young.  But, what caught Davos’ attention, was the scar, paled with age yet plainly visible, running the length of his side from his breastbone, and disappearing beneath the waist of his trousers.  Unthinking, Davos ran his fingers along the length of it, wishing to discover the texture of it, and where it was darker or lighter. He knew it would be part of his painting just as this magnificent flaw was part of King Stannis.

 

The King stiffened, a strangled sigh escaping his lips when Davos’ hand made contact with his flesh.  This brought Davos back to the moment. The King had not given his permission to be touched. The desperate look on the King’s face shook Davos to his bones.  There was no more deceiving himself that he was misreading the King’s thoughts, that it was impossible for the King to harbor the same need as himself. With a simple gesture, desire was given life between them and through them, burning in the King’s dark eyes and springing from his mouth in a release of breath he could no longer contain.  Davos felt it as sure as he felt the pounding of his own heart. It would be such bliss to surrender to the moment and satisfy this intense longing, but he suddenly realized that he could not ─ not now ─ not ever.

 

Davos’ lust turned to bile in his throat as he clearly saw for the first time his own wretchedness.  He was tempting the King to do the unthinkable ─ to chance soiling his reputation, his honor, which was his greatest strength.  Instead of creating his legacy, Davos would have him risk destroying it. What mattered not was Davos’ own needs, but those of the King.  Not the needs of the flesh, but of the soul. The only transaction that was required ─ nay that _must_ take place between them, was the portrait.  Davos had within his power to capture the King’s essence and to give it form for all who looked upon it.  Davos had the power to make King Stannis immortal, and that was more important than a momentary exchange of forbidden physical pleasure.  He knew that the King desired him, and knowing would have to suffice.

 

Davos dropped his hand and took a step back, away from the King.  Returning to his sketch, he motioned for the King to continue as he focused his attention on forming a rough outline of the King’s torso.  He was quite unable to speak ─ the effort to ignore the throbbing pressure between his thighs consuming all his self-control. Through sheer force of will, Davos concentrated on the pen in his hand, and the ink lines on paper.  He made himself view King Stannis as a model, and not a potential lover. He captured the light and shadow accentuating the hollows and rises of his flesh, the way his muscles flexed as he turned and reached for his blouse, the way his breeches rode low across his hips.  He translated what he saw, the truth and the beauty, to paper.

 

Before Davos realized it, nearly an hour had passed.  The King was now fully dressed and gazing at him crossly, having begun to feel shame in allowing Davos to stare at him in such a manner for so long.  His grumpy mood had returned as evidenced by the scowl on his face.

 

“That is quite enough time wasted, Ser Davos.  I’m not certain how you convinced me to indulge you in this farce, but I hope you made good use of the opportunity as there will not be another,” he growled.

 

Davos flushed and nodded, though he knew now that  King Stannis’ show of ire was so much bluster. He had sought out Davos’ company of his own volition this eve, and had betrayed the fact with word and deed, that he enjoyed their time alone as much as Davos.  Nevertheless, Davos attempted to humor him.

 

“Aye, Your Majesty.  I was able to accomplish much in my sketching.  You have my eternal gratitude. Now there is only painting left.”

 

He gestured to the King, who moved to stand at his side and view his work at close hand. Davos was gratified when he heard the King take a sharp intake of breath and release a sigh of awe, for it wasn’t the sketch of the two wrestlers that the King was expecting.  What Davos had drawn was something quite different. The two men stood studying the sketch for quite some time before the King spoke.

 

“Ser Davos!” he exclaimed in an excited whisper, as if not to break the spell.  “’Tis a magnificent portrait, but it bears little resemblance to me ─ ’tis the Sea God.”

 

The sketch was of a man, or rather a god in human form, rising from the sea.  He was quite naked, his lean body pale in the moonlight. Strands of kelp formed a crown about his head, and draped about his torso, one strategically positioned to obscure his genitals, lending a bit of modesty to the work ─  but only by the slightlist of standards. There was a scar running down his side paralleled by a length of seaweed, to accentuate the flaw. He held a sword that Davos imagined would gleam when painted. His beard was full and his eyes, both wise and fearsome, were fixed upon the viewer.  He had King Stannis’ face, and he portrayed strength, wisdom, and undeniable beauty ─ a perfect blend of god and man.

 

“’Tis both, my King,” Davos explained.  “’Tis the Sea God taken human form ─ your form.  ’Twill look more impressive when the painting is finished.”

 

“Yes, yes.”  The King nodded emphatically, clearly pleased.  

 

Davos’ heart swelled, for pleasing the King gave him life.  

 

“You will finish it, but you will show it to no one but myself.”

 

Davos’ heart sank as if it were a balloon pierced by an arrow.

 

“But surely Your Grace would have it displayed in the castle?”

 

“No,” King Stannis barked. His expression broaching no argument.  “I do not wish anyone to gossip about my naked form and how such a painting was conceived by a member of the royal court.  I will not be mocked. Do you understand?”

 

He arched menacing eyebrow at Davos who could do nothing by nod mutely.  His greatest work of art had received a death sentence.

 

“I must return to the castle now, before I’m missed,” said the King with a definite air of reluctance that lifted Davos’ flagging spirits.  “You will return to your duties painting the royal portrait on the morrow ─ the official portrait.”

 

A sigh of relief escaped Davos’ chest.  He was indeed back in the King’s good graces, and this time he would not disappoint.  

 

“Your Majesty, I would escort you back to the castle if you would allow it.”  


“I would,” King Stannis consented after a lengthy gaze into Davos’ eyes.  

 

It was obvious that neither man wished to leave these quiet rooms and end their time alone, but there was nothing for it.  In the days to come, Davos would often reflect back to this time as a turning point in their relationship, when the truth of their desires became clear and yet remained unspoken.  Davos knew that this was how it would remain between them. It was on this night he had earned the King’s unwavering trust, and though he would often yearn that their true feelings might be displayed for all to see ─ as he imagined the King yearned as well ─ he would content himself with memories of this night and dreams of a future together, one day when duty had been satisfied.

 

~~~

  
  


_Many years later_

 

Davos moved several blank canvases from a stack resting against the wall of his studio and revealed a painting he hadn’t seen in many years.  He was cleaning these familiar rooms for the last time, eager to make his move to Storm’s End to live out his final years. Suddenly, he was confronted with a decision.

 

“Father, how magnificent!  Why haven’t you displayed this one in the castle?”  Devan exclaimed, lifting the painting by its sides and holding it in front of him to inspect more closely.  “’Tis the Sea God is it not? Strange, but it also resembles King Stannis!”

 

Davos laughed, pleased by his son’s praise of his most cherished and yet most secret work.

 

“What do you see when you look at it?” he asked, curious.  No one other than himself and King Stannis had ever seen the painting, and he had forgotten how much he wished for an independent opinion of the piece.

 

Devan studied the painting carefully before answering, brow furrowed in contemplation in an expression that reminded Davos of King Stannis.  He smiled to himself at the comparison, proud of his son.

 

“I see great strength, symbolized by the sword, the battle scar, and the direct gaze of his eyes.  He is a fearsome warrior, like King Stannis.”

 

“Yes, good. What else?”

 

“Well, the Sea God is usually painted in a stormy setting with rough seas and sinking ships.  Here, the sea is calm in the moonlight. There are fisherman kneeling in the background, thanking the god for their good fortune, I suppose.”  

 

Seeing Davos nodding in agreement he continued.  

 

“It means that King Stannis’ reign was a peaceful one and the common folk prospered during that time.  Am I correct, Father?”

 

“You are, Devan.  Well said. ’Twas exactly what I intended to paint.”

 

“But why is it not on display for all to enjoy?”

 

“Good question,” Davos chuckled.  He stared at the painting of his King, his God, his love, and came to a decision.  “Do you believe ’tis a fitting tribute to King Stannis?”

 

“Oh yes!  The people should remember him this way I should think.”

 

“Well, then.  Take this portrait to Queen Shireen and let her decide whether to display it and where.”

 

“Won’t you come with me, Father?  The Queen is so fond of you. She will wish to speak with you before you go.”

 

“I’ve said my goodbyes already.  I must be off. Lord Stannis mustn’t be kept waiting longer than he should.”

 

Davos hoped that the former King would forgive him for breaking his oath and allowing the painting to be displayed for all to see.  At least now Lord Stannis had no authority to have him executed for doing so, but he didn’t wish to provoke anger in his old friend, especially not now.

 

“Why do you think he did it?”  Devan asked pointedly. “No King has ever abdicated the throne before.  I do not understand why. Do you believe he is ill? Doth he think himself unfit to rule?”

 

Davos bit his lip to suppress a giddy laugh that would only confuse his son.  He would tell him the official version of the truth, but the actual reason was one Davos could only surmise.

 

“No son, he is not ill.  After Queen Selyse joined the convent and pledged her life to R’hllor, he told me that he decided that he had served the people long enough.  Westeros is at peace, the economy is good. If he gave up his kingship now, ’twould allow Queen Shireen to rule with his guidance, and ’twould not necessitate that she enter into an unwanted marriage to satisfy a few wealthy lords and bishops for the sake of tradition.  ’Twill allow her the opportunity to prove herself.”

 

Devan nodded in agreement, even if the official truth was unprecedented and might seem a little odd.  Davos hugged his son and kissed his cheek for he didn’t expect to see him for quite some time. As he mounted his horse and waved farewell, he thought of what King Stannis ─ he would always be King Stannis to Davos ─ had said to him as he was mounting his own horse to leave for Storm’s End.

 

“Ser Davos, I hope you will come to me soon.  There is a place for you at Storm’s End if you will have it.”  

 

Davos had lost himself in those dark blue eyes, trying to read a deeper meaning in his words until the former King turned away.  His final words were muffled by the clop of the horse’s hooves on cobblestone so that Davos couldn’t be certain he’d heard them at all.  

 

“If you’ll have me.”

 

Even now, he smiled to himself at the thought of seeing Lord Stannis ─ Stannis, in a few days time.  His stomach fluttered with anticipation and uncertainty, but he wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything in the world.  During Stannis’ reign Davos had moved up the ranks from royal painter, to advisor, to the Hand of the King. More so he had become his closest friend.  He’d served King Stannis faithfully and never wavered in his loyalty. They had done their duty and kept their promises to honor their titles, and to serve the people.  Now all of it was over, duty had finally been satisfied. Perhaps now there would be time during what years remained, to live for each other.

 

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part where Stannis dresses as a commoner to walk among the townsfolk was inspired by a story I heard in Scotland about King James V (I think) who liked to do that.


End file.
